Daily Post 0100: Healing / Recouping

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Not much to report. I made it through Saturday. Having to work helped. I gamed most of Sunday. My character is almost to the point of getting her mount so I won’t have to run around like a peasant for much longer. Woo. Too bad there’s like… a billion hours worth of cutscenes to get through first because it’s Final Fantasy and every Final Fantasy game has a billion hours of cutscenes. ;-;

Right Brain: I don’t care about your storyline. Give me my mount damnit!

I woke up feeling less heavy today. I showered and had an egg sandwich, not caring about eating bread and how carbs are bad and blah blah blah. I wanted an egg sandwich so I had one. I wanted to cook a warm breakfast instead of heating up premade stuff in the microwave so I did it. It didn’t feel like a horribly heavy undertaking to “do” something, so I did what I felt would make me… content? Happy isn’t the right word and I’m not sure content is either.

It helped warm a part of me that’s been hurting for the last week or so. I did something familiar. The routine of cracking the eggs, adding garlic, toasting the toast as the eggs cook so things progress smoothly and efficiently. Unfortantently there wasn’t coffee made yet and I don’t like messing with the coffee maker since it’s not mine, but even without a cup of warm coffee, it was still a nice breakfast which I enjoyed.

The kids weren’t here. Papa Ox was in the computer room and even though Mama Ox was home since she’s not feeling well, she was in her room watching TV so I got to sit by myself at the dining room table instead of standing in the kitchen like I normally do. It was quiet and I… enjoyed my morning. Yes… I think enjoyed is the right word and though it’s not the first morning I’ve enjoyed since Saturday and Sunday were also enjoyable, it was the first time in a long time that I’ve been able to enjoy it alone. I enjoyed the solitude of it as much as I enjoyed eating something relatively healthy and warm and familiar and comforting.

I went to training today which is the main reason I ate breakfast. It went well. The beginning was rough since my muscles were stiff from not doing a whole lot since Thursday. By the end of my session, I was warmed up and ready to go. I was sort of disappointed when it had to end. It felt like I had just hit my stride. I can still go to the gym near home and run or do weights or a workout through one of the apps I have, and I might, but I’m also aware that right now my energy levels are very tentative and fickle and I don’t want to give myself an obligation that could turn around and make me feel bad later for not getting done. I would rather leave it open-ended and see how things go.

I’ve already put the clothes away. That happened before leaving for the gym since I needed to find workout clothes. It’s a nice feeling to know I’ve already been slightly productive this morning. The only thing I have left which  “should” get done is cooking the roast that I cut up for my breakfasts. Currently, I’m waiting for the oven to preheat all the way. From there it’s simply a matter of putting the roast in the oven and waiting. Not much else is required on my end. So, in theory, today should be a low key day, which I’m perfectly ok with and I think would do a lot for me as far as continuing to recover from the most recent struggle with my grief.

The kids are back now, so a lot of the whole recharge thing sort of depends on how occupied they’re able to keep themselves. There’s a part of me who knows that when they leave again I’ll be hard on myself for not being more involved. For not handling my introvertedness better. For not being a better parent even though I’m not one. It’s confusing, but in this moment, I’m ok with them doing their own thing while I do mine.

One of my patients had a seizure yesterday. It was the first time I was on the front line for an emergency situation. In Orlando, there was the rest of my team who had way more experience than me. It was easier for me to tend to the other patients, respond to machine alarms, prep for the next shift, and so on. I was more helpful by not being in the way and making sure everything else didn’t fall apart while my team members were busy handling whatever situation was going on.

At my current clinic, it’s just me and the RN. There isn’t anyone else. I have to help. So yesterday was my first experience of being involved rather than watching from a distance.

At the time it wasn’t scary. I think I handled it well. I feel like I was helpful. Once the situation was stabilized I went back to making sure everything else was taken care of. Post weights were charted. Machines were wiped down with bleach rags and reset for the next patient. I had done the most I could do so I went back to taking care of what needed to get done. I did what was within my scope of practice.

It wasn’t until I had finally driven home and called Jon that I broke down into tears. This particular patient is one of my favorites. He’s so quiet, but every once in a while there will be a joke and he’ll smile or give a small laugh and you know it’s genuine. It warms something inside me. I know he doesn’t want to be at the clinic. I know being on dialysis is hard for him. I could see it in his eyes every time his needles would act up in the beginning when his fistula was still new. The look of hopelessness. Of borderline despair that you have to keep hidden because you’re not at home and you can’t break down in front of people. You have to be strong and hold it together but you’re so tired of being strong and why can’t it just work? Why did it have to be you?

Getting him to smile means that I made his day just a little brighter. I made the whole situation a little less shitty.

I felt him not be there. The absence of whatever energy it is that people have within them. Using words like “feel” and “soul” are very INFJy and make me feel vulnerable because I know that leaves me open for people to say things like it’s in my head or not real. At the same time, I know myself and I know what I felt and coming home to process through the situation was something I needed to do even though it sucked.

I called Jon because I needed to talk to someone who could understand. I don’t have nursing friends. Most of the people I talk to aren’t in the medical field, and so when I need to talk about work stuff I don’t have much of a support network aside from my brother. I never got a chance to talk to mom about things like this because when she was an RN I was teaching Computer Animation and still passed out at the sight of blood. In a way, it’s humbling to realize how far I’ve come, how much I’ve changed, in such a short amount of time.

While I was on the phone with Jon he mentioned that I most likely really wanted to talk to mom right now, to which I answered yes. I wanted to ask her how she did it. How many times did she come home and cry over a patient dying or having a shitty diagnosis? How many times did I not know she was having a hard day, a shit day that there was nothing anyone could do to make it better because sometimes that’s just life? As a healer, you can only do so much. Everyone is still mortal and to an extent, you have no control over anything. All you can do is your best and understand that even though it doesn’t feel like enough, it is.

I want to have her perspective and insight and I can’t. I can never have answers to those questions now and it sucks. At least, I can’t have her answers and those are the ones I truly want.

Jon said he was the second best I could get. He didn’t mean it in a bad way even though second best sounds bad. He was being honest and he’s a pretty damn good second best. We both understand no one will ever be able to beat mom. Ever. That’s just the way it works, and he gets it because I’m the same way. He calls me when he wants to talk to mom because I’m the closest he has just like he’s the closest I have.

He said he’s never been in a situation like what I was in, but having been a CNA on an oncology floor, he’s seen patients go from “good to dead” as he worded it, so while he doesn’t know the exact feelings of watching someone you care about experience a seizure, in a way he understands the feelings of “why this person?”

It helped to talk with him. It helped to hear him say that it sounded like I kept my cool and did what needed to be done and that in his opinion I handled the situation professionally. It helped to hear his voice and to move on to talking about normal life and what he’s been up to and our upcoming trip.

By the time I was off the phone I was more ok with going back inside and figuring out dinner and being around the family without having the weight of “no one knows about this thing I went through today”. Aside from Ox and Jon, no one here knows still and I don’t think it really matters. It’s not their job. It’s not their life or their burden. I was still able to sit down at the table and have dinner and smile and joke to the degrees I was able to without it feeling forced or soul-crushing. I was able to handle the situation at work, but also make peace with it in my personal life and I think that’s the biggest thing. I’m at peace with the situation and it’s not eating away at something inside me.

Ox and I are doing well I think. We’ve had some deep conversations since my race. I don’t know what else to say on that topic. He put the butcher block onto the rolling cabinet yesterday. The pull out drawers that I had bought won’t work the way we want them to, so at some point, I need to return them. I’ve kept the receipt just in case something like this happened, so hopefully, I’ll be able to get my $100 back. Now that we know how tall the cabinet is, we can make the counter to go above it. That will be the last stage of this particular project for the time being.

Ox has agreed to let me make an Excel sheet/budget thing for his monthly expenses, similar to what I have for mine. I’m not sure why, but there are warm feelings associated with that. Trust maybe. He trusts me enough to let me know about his finances rather than keeping that area of our lives hidden from one another. Less walls maybe. More openness and transparency.

One of our conversations over the weekend was how I am spending the money he’s paying me back with to buy food for the house. To him, it seems counter to his intentions. He says the money is supposed to be mine. It’s supposed to be used for my tattoos or things for me, not being invested back into providing for everyone.

In my head, it’s not fair of me to not spend the money in such a way when I’m staying aat the house rent free. What’s $50 or so in groceries when I’m not charged for the electricity to power my computer so I can sit and play video games instead of unloading the dishwasher?

That led to a conversation about him giving money to help with the groceries, which I was uncomfortable with. That led to introspection about why it made me uncomfortable which led to another conversation while he was on his lunch break today.

I’m glad that all of our conversations are that; conversations, discussions. Not fights or yelling or cursing. It makes it easier to have conversations about touchy topics. It makes it feel safer even though the fear and mild anxiety are still there. It’s easier to pacify the hurt aspect of myself, the part that’s been mistreated through so many relationships, when there’s so much data to support that this one is different from my past.

It’s been almost six months, and though there are things we’re still working through and figuring out, that’s six months of stability and acceptance and discussions and support and troubleshooting and problem-solving.

I think Ox and I are ok, and I think we’ll continue to be ok and that’s a nice feeling in a weird way that I’m not really used to anymore, but it’s one I want to continue to experience.

I’ve been eating more consistently. I’m still taking care of my chores and bills. I still need to drink more water, but I always need to drink more water so meh on that one.

Overall I think I’m healing and recovering the best I can from this latest wave of grief. I made it through it. I’m still here. I still don’t have answers and I still don’t have a goal I’m consciously working towards, but things are less heavy and pointless feeling which is sort of odd because I still don’t have a point for doing them so doesn’t that keep them in the pointless category?

Annoying brain is annoying. /sigh

I don’t want to say that I’m on the upswing, or that things or good or going better.

I feel less injured. I feel like I’m recovering. Those words have a different connotation than good or better. I’m healing. And right now, I’m ok with that.

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Letters To Mom 021: Goddamnit

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Goddamnit, mom.

That was the thought I had ricocheting over and over again in my head as I left the gym today.

I know you’re still here. I know you know all of this. I know you see everything, but goddamnit. This is the only way I can talk to you, other than talking to myself and wondering if I’m crazy. This is one of the few physical things I feel I have to represent our connection. It’s not just words in the air, carried away by the wind, never to be heard again.

This is lasting. This can be printed out and held and hugged and cried on, and so I need to write it even though you know it. I need to make it physical.

It’s worse this year. And maybe worse isn’t the right word. I didn’t understand it as I left the gym. I haven’t understood it every time it feels like I backtrack to square one. What’s different this time is I’ve had time to talk to Jon and Ox and I’ve had time to be home and to read posts online and to try to figure it out because in my head there’s a problem and so I need to find a solution to fix it, only there isn’t a problem according to the internet. It’s normal. Worse is normal even though it’s not actually worse.

The first year you died sucked. It sucked so much mom. Every fucking day. Yet at the same time, it didn’t. I didn’t feel much of anything for the longest time. There wasn’t a point in feeling anything. I was on auto piolet a lot of those days. The only thing I had to do was survive.

I had to eat. I had to drink. I had to care for my body enough for it to not break down. And when I started taking CNA classes I had to study and learn and make good grades. Things I have always been decent at. It didn’t take effort. More auto piolet. Just do what needs to be done. No thinking. No emotion. Just do.

In a way, it was simpler than it is now. I cared about things less. I didn’t worry about a lot of things because I didn’t have the energy to care.

I’m past the survival stage. I’m past learning how to meet my basic needs without you being here. I’ve learned how to wake up with the pain. I’ve learned how to cope with the hard days where I want to break down and cry. I’ve learned how to breathe while I tend to an invisible wound I can’t touch or show anyone.

I’ve done all of that, and so now we’re going into year three. I made it through Mother’s Day. But Saturday is your birthday and goddamnit, I’m back to crying and feeling directionless and hopeless and alone and angry and sad and it sucks.

It sucks worse then it did the first time because the first time was about surviving. It sucks worse than the second year because I was in the middle of training for work and worrying about paying my bills and having a roof over my head and enough gas in the car and food in the kitchen since Warren was a dick and not paying rent. So, really, the second year was still the survival phase for me, maybe moreso than the first because at least in the first year I had the money you left me to cover my needs. It was more about figuring out how to drive to the store without screaming in emotional agony over doing it while knowing that you were dead.

The second year I had to donate plasma just to keep making ends meet. While I still had hard days, I was still more focused on becoming stable. I had to figure out all of my shit for work and not quit because there were a lot of days that I felt like I wasn’t good enough. I had to worry about becoming a stronger member of my team so no one dreaded working with me. I had to figure out how to support two adults on a single paycheck because Warren wasn’t holding up his end of the deal. It wasn’t emotional survival the second year; it was actual survival and I did it.

I moved to Nebraska because I was done figuring out everyone else’s crap. I moved here to take care of me, and I guess this is part of that process. I’ve been stuck in the first year of grieving for two years because for two years I’ve had to worry about survival.

I’m past that now, though, and so now I get to move on to phase two, which are the emotions.

I actually feel the pain this time and so now I have to cope with a whole new aspect of my grief and I guess a lot of people go through this.

There’s the expectation that surviving the first year means it will make coping with the countless additional years easier or more manageable or doable or something. It will be more “something” but painful was never on my list. That’s the reality of my grief over your death, though. I feel the pain more now because I don’t have to put all of my time and effort and energy into merely surviving. I have the energy to deal with the emotional aspect of it all and I almost wish I didn’t because I’m supposed to be doing better. I’m supposed to not cry as much. I’m supposed to be more ok and not have people worry about me or darken their days with my sadness and that’s not what’s happening.

I’ve gained two pounds of muscle and two pounds of fat since my last weigh in two weeks ago.

When my trainer asked how my eating has been going I said I’ve been inconsistent. On my days off I have the tendency to skip breakfast. If I eat breakfast I normally forgo lunch. I don’t eat my snacks like I know I should. Dinner usually happens, but it’s a crapshoot as to when. The days I work are a bit better, but not by much. I’m still not really drinking enough water, though I am doing better than I was last week.

So it’s not that I’m eating poorly, it’s that my body is freaking out and thinking that it’s never going to be fed so it’s holding onto what I do give it. Which, to be fair to my body, it’s not wrong at the moment.

When my trainer asked if I’ve gone to the dojo I said no because I haven’t. When he asked if I’ve gone to the gym near home I said no because I haven’t. Since my race two weeks ago, I haven’t done anything extra. I go to my training and that’s it and even then, I missed one of my sessions because I didn’t want to go.

I don’t want to go anywhere. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to talk to people. I don’t want to pretend to be ok when I’m not. I don’t want to explain why I’m not ok because it’s no one’s fucking business and even if I did, a vast majority of people wouldn’t understand and just feel awkward so it would be a waste of time and energy.

I mean, really, when someone asks you, “What’s wrong?” What are you supposed to say? “Oh, nothing. It’s just that my mom died. It’s cool though. Don’t worry about me. I’ll get over it.” No one is prepared for a super heavy answer like, “My mom died.” That’s not the answer they want. It’s supposed to be something small and manageable like a breakup or a bad day at work. They don’t want a real answer so why give one?

It’s like when people ask, “How are you?” “Fine” or “Ok” or “Good” feel like the only ok answers because 99.9999999999999999% of people are only asking out of social obligation, not because they actually want to legitimately know how you are doing emotionally.

I want to be left alone. I want to be alone. I want to make it through this hard time and I don’t want outside input on how I should or should not be getting through it.

My trainer has goals for me, but I don’t care. My work has expectations of me, but I don’t care. I don’t have goals for me. I don’t have expectations of me.

It’s almost your birthday. Nothing else matters right now. Everything else is insignificant and trivial and meaningless when held against the fact that you’re dead.

I woke up today. I showed up to training instead of canceling again. I need that to count towards something. I need it to matter that I’m trying as much as I am when I don’t have an answer for “What’s the point?”

If none of it matters, if waking up doesn’t count, then why even do it? I showered. I had breakfast. I got dressed and drove like a diligent, responsible adult. I parked within the lines in the parking lot instead of like a douchebag who doesn’t care. I need all of those stupid, small, little things to matter because if they don’t then why bother?

I want to know why there’s more anger now. What is there to be angry at? There wasn’t a drunk driver. There wasn’t malpractice. It was a shitty situation and we’re both doing the best we can now. What good does anger do? Why is it here, within myself? What am I supposed to learn or gain from it? Where is it supposed to go?

All of the posts I’ve read have helped. There was one about loving through separation. All of the posts were things I can relate to. They’re things that I feel now. It helps, knowing that it’s worse in future years for others, too.

It’s not regression. It’s not abnormal. It’s not a fuck up on my part.

The first year is about survival. The other years is about figuring out why you survived in the first place. What was the point of that horrific struggle? You’re still not here. You didn’t magically come back. You’re still gone and I have to go through all of these days all over again, without you, still, and they’re not magically easier because fairy dust doesn’t fix anything, so why? Why go through it all again, and again, and again, and again, and for forever again?

Goddamnit, mom, I wish I had an answer, for you, for me, but I don’t, and that makes me angry and frustrated.

I don’t want it to be your birthday again. I don’t want to not be able to call. I want an address where I can send a card and know that it will reach you and make you smile and feel loved because I still love you so goddamn much it hurts.

I want to be better even though I never will be and I really don’t want to be because that would mean whatever it is we still have will be gone. In a way, I love my grief because it’s you. It’s the result of our connection being changed by your death. If my grief wasn’t there or if it changed or didn’t hurt as much it would mean our connection when you were alive had been different and I would never want to change what we had. I’m ok with my grief because it means I had you in my life for as long as I did the ways that I did.

I’m in another wave, mom. I’m getting through it. At least I think I am. And I think it’s ok that I’m here. I have more hope that I’ll get through it than I did when I left the gym.

I don’t really know what else to say right now. I don’t have answers for you or myself. I guess I just wanted to let you know that what I’m feeling is ok and that I’m angry but I’m not angry at you. I’m sorry that I’m angry. I’m sorry I’m having a harder time than I think I should be. And I’m sorry I put that expectation on myself.

I’m trying to be understanding with myself and after reading the things I have, I think it’s easier for me to do that.

I love you, mom. Forever and for always.

With love ~ Your Angry Dragon

Daily Post 099: Taking Care of Business

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Today has been a decent day.

Last week I got another notice from Spectrum about the internet account I’m “no longer associated with”. Let me tell you how happy I was to receive a late payment notice…

So that was the first thing I started my morning with, aside from breakfast and a cup of coffee. Mentally preparing for battle and everything. The guy I spoke to was super nice. He listened to my story.

Bullet Points:
Went to Spectrum location with roommate before move
Worked with representative to switch the account over
Contacted about a month later because original representative fucked shit up
Filled out paper emailed to me
Emailed paper to Warren
Warren, theoretically, filled out his part of the paper and turned it in
Still receiving messages about the account

According to the guy on the phone, I was still connected to the account.

Right Brain: Burn everything to the ground! /rage

Left Brain: Has this been messing with my credit since all of the letters have been about late payments?

The representative took all of my information out of the account, including my banking and card information. I am no longer legally responsible for the account what so ever. I have it on recording. I have the date of the conversation on my Google Calendar, so if anything comes of this in the future I can hopefully refer back to it.

And, according to the guy, since the account never went to a claims agency, it shouldn’t have affected my credit, and definitely wouldn’t going forward.

So that’s off my to-do list. I’m glad it went smoothly. I’m glad it’s done.

I messaged Warren to let him know I spoke with Spectrum and that I would like to talk to him. I still haven’t heard anything back from him. I’m not surprised. I’ve sort of given up on anything from him which saddens me. I would like to think I still matter to him. As one of the few people left in my life who knew my mom, it sucks to feel like I’ve lost his friendship as well. I’m tired of trying, though. I’m tired of reaching out asking to talk and receiving nothing in return.

Not an, “I’m busy.” Not even an acknowledgment that I messaged. Just silence and a notification on the message saying it was seen.

Whatever. Maybe one day things will be different. But right now, I’m tired of wasting energy on it.

After the phone call with Spectrum, I called the hospital I’ve been trying to become a new patient at. I need to have a physical done for work so I can get a discount on my insurance for the coming year.

To recap the story on that… I found a place that’s in my circle for my insurance. I called and tried to make an appointment. As a new patient, they needed me to fill out a bunch of paperwork before they would schedule said first appoint.

Fine… I’ll fill out your paperwork.

They mailed it to me. I took a while to fill it out but finally did. I was even diligent and eventually went to the place to turn it back in. They said everything was filled out properly so they would send the medical release form to my old provider and once they received my records I would be called to schedule my first appointment.

Well… that was like a month ago…

So I called this morning to figure out what was going on with that. In addition to needing the physical, my birth control is going to need to be replaced soon.

The person I spoke to at the hospital was also extremely kind. She looked in their database. They already have my records so she’s not sure why I wasn’t called, but if I wanted, I could go ahead and make an appointment while I was on the phone. So that’s done and taken care of. My appointment is for August 30th since I’m going out of town and I had agreed to pick up a day at work, but couldn’t remember what day since it wasn’t written down anywhere. Lame.

So it’s a ways off, but at least it’s going to happen now. Yay adulting. We even set up my preferred pharmacy while we were at it.

That left figuring out my paycheck correction. I wasn’t at work so I didn’t have access to my paystubs, but I figured I would try calling and see if anything could be done.

That phone call sort of sucked. The person I spoke to was pretty bitchy. She wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise. I also felt berated for “not having any useful information to help her solve my problem”. Sorry that I’m at home on my day off and that your system won’t let me access my information unless I’m at my clinic? Needless to say, it was frustrating and nothing got solved. In fact, she said she wouldn’t explain anything about my paystub to me unless I had it in front of me because I wouldn’t understand anything she was saying.

I hope that call gets pulled for one of her reviews.

From there the day was pretty chill. I talked to Jon for about an hour. He got to unload all of his drama on me and I got to inform him about mine. After that was a phone call from Ox while he was on lunch break.

That didn’t leave much time before I needed to head to the gym for training. I showered and got ready. I made sure all of my stuff was packed then loaded it into the car and headed out.

Training went well. We’re in a new phase now, so was a lot of new stuff. Ninja jumps are pretty cool. I got to push the sled again, which was fun. He asked how my eating went last week and I owned up and said it had been shitty. I explained the discontent with work and my schedule and how when I feel things are unresolved that I have a tendency to not eat.

I also got to explain that I felt like I had that side of it figured out and that I wasn’t going to let work win. I’ve resolved to stick it out for a little bit. I had another conversation with my FA and found out that the Cap City location has hired several people. The South Lincoln location also hired another person. There was a promising interview with another tech, and our clinic specifically has two nurses which should work out.

It’s going to take a few months to get everyone through training, but things should start improving as long as I can stick it out for this rough patch. So that’s what I’m going to try to do. Instead of jumping ship I’m going to wait and see how it goes.

With that settled inside my head, it’s been easier to eat and drink the way I need to. I still haven’t made a decision on the dojo membership. I don’t think I’m going to do anything this month since I’m about to go out of town. I might just stick with training and the gym and biking here and there while it’s summer and turn more to the dojo in the winter months once things, in theory, settle down again with work.

Which, speaking of bike rides… I didn’t go on one this weekend. Instead, I stayed home for most of it and gamed and it was nice. No regrets. I got to chat with friends from Orlando and run dungeons with them. I progressed my storyline so I’m closer to getting my character’s mount. I also finally bought the game so I’m out of the free trial restrictions.

Basically, this weekend was mostly me not being an adult and it was the break I needed I think. Yesterday and today I’ve felt better and more able to take care of what needs to get done. I actually had something to give at the gym without struggling with the feelings of “what’s the point”.

The point is, the gym and the dojo are what I want. I don’t really have to have a reason other than that. I don’t have to understand the deeper side of it, even though I know there is one. I feel better when I workout. I feel better when I push myself to do things I didn’t think I could do, or things I’ve been told I can’t do. I like proving to myself that I am good enough and I’m not going to let work take that away from me. I’m not going to let emotional discord over what my work schedule may or may not become keep me from taking proper care of myself or keep me from enjoying the things I have in this moment.

In this moment, at home, we got the insulation for the roof of the addition. I got to move a lot of the bags and stack them so it’s organized and compact so when we get to the stage of actually putting it up it will be easy to get to and move. I started putting up the cardboard in the rafters last night so there’s that much less to do. I didn’t make any further progress on that today, but I’m mostly ok with that.

I don’t mind how today went. Lil’ Ox and I biked to the gas station when I got back from the gym. Once this is done I will have written, another thing which is important to me and takes time to do. I have plans to make a decent dinner for myself and after that, I will shower before going to sleep so I’m rested for my workday tomorrow.

Work has been going smoothly so the thought of going in tomorrow doesn’t kill a part of my soul. Our AA should be back before too much longer which will be nice.

I don’t think there’s a whole lot else to report. I’m sort of counting down the days ’til I get to see my brothers. I’m sort of looking forward to my weigh in on Thursday. I’ll be happy if I’ve maintained during my week of feeling meh. I’ll be pleased if there’s any forward progress, and if I’ve gained I’ll be understanding with myself and know that this too shall pass and the only thing I can do is make choices more in line with what I want going forward.

So with that, I’m going to go forward with the rest of my night because I’m hungry and sleep sounds amazing.

Daily Post 098: Blarg

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So I’m going to try writing again and hopefully, the Internet doesn’t eat it this time. Not that I’m still miffed about my last writing or anything…

I’m still low energy. I canceled training today mostly because I have a sore spot on my foot, but also because I didn’t want to go anywhere today. I messaged my trainer and asked if it would be possible to rescheduled to Saturday. We’re going to see how my foot is feeling tomorrow and go from there. He gave me advice for taking care of it, so we’ll see.

It’s been… nice… not doing anything. I’ve been in bed nearly all day with small bouts of “up-ness”. I sat outside for a while this morning before going back to bed. I dug through the Warrior Dash event photos and found mine since those were posted. I’ve talked Jon and messaged a few people through Facebook. I talked to Ox during his lunch break. But that’s been about the extent of my day.

No chores. No shower. Not even really eating. My first meal happened at 1 pm. I’m picking away at what should have been my breakfast right now, but only because of a few posts I’ve read online.

I’m still pretty low energy and though today has been nice, feeling this low, still, is sort of annoying.

Dehydration is a possible culprit. I haven’t been drinking anywhere close to the amount of water that I “should” be drinking on a normal day. With running my race and the general heat level outside and sweating through my days at work, I’m most likely bearly skating by and my body is having issues with that, fatigue being one of the symptoms.

Not eating enough or the right stuff is another possible factor. I haven’t wanted to eat lately. With the news about work on Monday and with the conversation I had the following Wednesday, I’m not really motivated to eat. I don’t have the issue of stress eating like some people do. If I’m stressed for feel like things are out of balance and unresolved, I tend to skip meals which throws everything off.

On the subject of Wednesday… I talked to my FA and asked if they had any idea of what I would be working this coming schedule. She said no. It would be taken on a week by week basis and they couldn’t guarantee anything. I asked, at a bare minimum, could I not close on Mondays at Cap City because that would prevent me from going to the dojo on one of the few days they offer jiujitsu.

She said they would try. They think they hired someone specifically to close on the late days, but again, she couldn’t promise anything.

It’s hard to feel appreciated or like me and my life matter when I feel like I’m now the doormat / catch-all for everyone else’s schedule. When all of my mental and emotional energy is going into reassuring myself that things will be ok, the thought of having to go make food or even heat something up in the microwave feels… I don’t know… not worth it? It’s easier to stay in bed and sleep through the hunger. When I wake up maybe I’ll feel better enough to care about food AND to do something about it.

So… That’s sort of where I am right now. I think I know a few things to fix at least the physical side of the imbalance, but I don’t really have anything that can fix what I feel is causing the issue, other than maybe not giving a fuck about my schedule but I’m not sure if I can do that. Not caring about my schedule means I don’t care about the gym and the dojo, and I do care about those things and I’m worried that they’re being threatened by work and I have no reassurance that they won’t be.

It sucks.

On a more positive note… My Concur report from work was approved for the whole amount and has been deposited into my account. So now the only thing left on my to-do list as far as paychecks go is to make sure they fix the fuck up they made while trying to fix my missing 15 hours. I’ll find out tomorrow if that was resolved.

While I was on the phone with People Services I asked about my back pay for my CCHT. They’ve back paid it as far as they’re going to. The week and a half that’s missing was in the middle of a pay period and they’re not going to retro back to it. That sucks, too, since that’s not how I was told it works, but at least they back paid anything at all. I think this is one of those moments that it doesn’t matter what I want or what I was told or what I think is right. They’re a company and they’re going to play by their rules and I can either waste energy into feeling something over it, or move on with my life because it’s a battle I’m never going to win.

I started looking at things on Indeed last night. Job postings and such. There were some things I was qualified for. Normal hours. $14 an hour.

It would be better if I had my phlebotomy certification or my CNA. I don’t though. I took the classes and never went through all the way to get my national certifications. I have my EKG, but there aren’t postings for that. So… I can look at taking another class to get those things, which would be hard to do with work about to become inconsistent. I could tough it out for a bit at work, save up money, pay down the credit card, then put in a two-week notice and do the courses over again and try to find a new job, all while maybe or maybe not having the dojo…

I don’t know. It all seems messy right now. At least I have a year and a half of dialysis going for me. And the 10+ years of customer service.

There wasn’t much in the way of teaching positions. Or tutoring. Nothing CG related in the area. I could try to see what freelance is out there, but that would be a lot of digging and hunting on my part and I don’t know if I would want to do that constantly.

Blarg.

Ox should be home soon. It’s already 5 pm. I have work tomorrow. Then one of my now numbered double day weekends. The kids will be here starting Monday. I’m back to wondering if I should get an extended stay in Beatrice.

Things aren’t bad. They’re just different than how I want them to be and I’m not doing myself any favors with how I’m coping.

Oh… One happy moment. I got to show one of my patients some of the pictures from during my race. My name is now Mud Monster at the clinic. Warm fuzzy feelings. :3

 

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Musing Moment 115: Making Work Work For Me

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I’m sort of beyond furious right now.

I had just spent the past like… three hours figuring out EVERYTHING in regards to my discontent with work. And then the internet fucked up and copied over what I wrote with something else and since I write in Grammarly and didn’t realize it had messed up my writing, when I closed the window it saved the incorrect writing and there’s no way for me to get back what I originally wrote.

So much rage. If I could break the Internet right now I would. Without remorse even because it deserves to die a horrible stabbity death.

INFJ righteous rage at its finest.

So this is going to be a much more condensed version of what I wrote before, with more curse words, because I’m not going to rewrite everything as it was and cursing makes me feel better.

Firstly… Fuck you, Universe.

Moving on. My original writing started with me talking about how I’ve been low energy since my race and identifying a multitude of factors which could have or currently are contributing to the prolonged lull.

First big event with a bunch of people
Dehydration
Eating carbs and having to get back into ketosis

I think I did a lot of help myself as best I could

Sleeping
Prepping everything beforehand so Sunday was a light day
Actually letting Sunday be a light day instead of doing a bunch of shit
Writing and whining to mom because it gave me stuff to think about

I’m going to take a moment here to say that I do appreciate the relationship I have with Ox. While sex is important to me, by writing I realized that there are a lot of aspects about our relationship that I value, and that no, sex isn’t everything and though we do have our own self-imposed difficulties, we have a lot of really positive things going for us.

Ok. Sappy emotional moment over. Moving on since I’m still rage-filled because fuck you, Internet.

I think the conversation I had with my FA on Monday is the biggest factor to my continued low energy. I was told after my vacation I would have to start covering shifts at Cap City so other techs could be more familiar with how our clinic is run, since Friday was a cluster fuck of disaster with both me and my FA going out of town at the same time.

Right Brain: Great. Just when I’ve found my dojo and am about to drop $130 for a monthly membership, you’re going to take it away from me. Thanks. I feel like everything I love is being taken away from me again. You do realize the last time I felt this way I moved halfway across the country, right?

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To be fair, I’ve been thinking about new work for a bit. Upon thinking deeper on it I’ve realized there are a lot of downsides.

New boss
New team
New environment
New schedule which may or may not work with what I want
Most likely less pay when I already have issues with making less than what I was making at Full Sail

Not a lot of positives other than not having to work at Cap City. In reality, a new job would most likely fix none of the issues I’m trying to solve.

There’s also the facts of:

I don’t want to leave my clinic
The clinic would be fucked without me
I don’t want to leave my patients
I like my boss
The schedule could work as long as they’re willing to work with me
I secretly want my retention bonus even though, push come to shove, it’s not enough to make me stay

I want to sit down with my FA and talk to her about it because I don’t think essentially saying, “Your schedule’s about to change but I can’t tell you what it’s changing to because I don’t know. K. Thanks. Bye,” is very fair. It left me feeling like my entire personal life is about to get screwed over. I can’t plan or problem solve with information like that, but I also can’t really go to her yet and help come up with solutions when I don’t know what would or would not work for myself.

So even though I knew she was at the clinic when I got done with personal training today, I decided to come home instead because I needed to have a meeting with myself first to figure out my side of the equation.

That’s what all of the previous writing, which I no longer have, was. It was amazing. It was perfect. It was done. And then it got messed up so here I am, still rage filled that I’m repeating it.

Basically, I identified a few things.

Monday: Dojo days. I can get up to four hours at the dojo in the evenings. Not so if I have to close at Cap City because I wouldn’t get out until around 9. That puts me home at 10ish which would also mean I get no time with Ox. Essentially working late on Mondays sucks and has no compensation for what would be my personal loss. Boooo late Mondays. Early out Mondays are negotiable, though.

Tuesday: It’s ok to work at Cap City because even if I close I would be out around 4 or 5, which would still leave me able to get to SCA combat practice, which I’m not going to today because it’s a rainy and icky day. Working Tuesdays would fuck over personal training which rescheduling is “doable,” but would be harder the more inconsistent my schedule is because I’m essentially at the mercy of my trainer’s schedule at that point and he may or may not be able to work with what I’m able to do.

Wednesday: Normally an off day as far as personal training and the dojo go. At the moment these are gym days after work. If I worked Cap City I could do something either before or after, depending on the shift I’m scheduled for. If I work in Beatrice I could move my personal training to happen after work, assuming my trainer is available. Basically, Wednesdays have options.

Thursday: Another heavy dojo day with up to three hours worth of classes I could do. Another personal training day as well. Working Cap City wouldn’t interfere with the dojo, but it, again, makes personal training an issue that would have to be figured out. Not the best case scenario, but not the worst either.

Friday: An off day from personal training and the dojo. Set to be a gym day at the moment. Normally scheduled to work at Beatrice. Could potentially do Cap City without fucking shit up.

Saturday: Would be a Cap City day. Out by around 4 or 5 if I close. Earlier if I open. Could let me do the grocery shopping and any errands I might have since I’ll already be in town. I’ve been thinking about offering up my Saturdays anyway since it gets me out of the house. Could still hit the gym if I wanted / needed to.

Sunday: Always an off day from work. Would be left open for my bike rides while the weather is still nice, which those days are numbered since winter is a thing in Nebraska. Also would have to start investing into sacrificial chickens to ensure the gods are pleased so it doesn’t rain on the one day I can get out on my bike.

So there… everything in a condensed nutshell since my first writing was so unsatisfactory.

/wtb sacrificial chickens

I like the idea of having Mondays off completely. I could move personal training to Monday. I could have it as a buffer day to finish anything that didn’t get done Saturday evening / Sunday.

Preferably I could keep Thursdays off as well. That would let personal training on those days stay the same along with ensuring I have both my dojo days.

Everything else is sort of whatever. I “like” having set days in Beatrice, but as long as I can have my two dojo days and my two personal training sessions, that I’ve already paid for, then I think I’m fine. Combat isn’t an issue and would let Ox and I still have our mini date night after practice where we get dinner before going home.

If I can’t have Thursday as an off day, then I want at least one day set for Beatrice where I can switch my personal training to the evening after work.

I think that’s fair. I think that gives everyone options.

I’m done. I’m going to go smoke now because I’m still angry. Grr.

Letters to Mom 020: Relationship Rambling

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I ran my race.

I didn’t run all of it. I didn’t really try to run all of it. There were two points where I met another runner and walked with them while we talked about life and our past race experiences. I could have run more, but I don’t have this pressure or feeling that I should have run more. I did what I wanted and I’m ok with that.

I’m surprised with how recovered I feel. I know I ran more this race than I did on any of my previous races. I still did all of the obstacles. I still crossed the finish line and had my victory beer.

I’m… happy… with my race and that makes me feel sad in a way. I wrote about it at least once that I can remember. I never thought success could be painful, but it is now. I did well and so I hurt because I did well when mom isn’t here. Maybe one day I’ll grow past this point in my life where everything comes back to her death, but right now I haven’t and so this is where I am.

I did well and I can’t show mom any of the pictures. It hurts even though at the same time I have all of these positive feelings. Ox went with me. He was there when I crossed the finish line. He even gave me a half-way hug while someone else took our picture for us. He drove me to and from the race. He went to dinner with me the night before where we got subs and had ice cream from a local deli near the race location.

We had a mostly serious conversation about our relationship, and though nothing was really solved or figured out, I feel like it was important that we talked.

It’s hard to want to go back to work. I want to see my patients but I really don’t want the stress that goes with my job. I don’t want the annoying hours. Maybe part of the discontent is from being tired. Maybe I’ll be more ok with the thought of work tomorrow, but for right now, I would be ok if I didn’t have to go back. I have too many tangled emotions right now to want to be around people.

I’m glad that almost all of the obstacles felt easy and that the hardest part about the run was running uphill. I’m glad my new Vibrams performed well. I’m glad I didn’t get super sunburnt. I’m glad I went to the race.

There’s so much I want to write about but I don’t know how right now. It’s why I didn’t write yesterday or before the race.

Mom, I miss you. I know you would be so proud right now. I know you would listen to every word if we were talking. I’ve already been cornered by Mama Ox and talked about all the different obstacles and how I felt I did and was the time with my trainer worth it and all of these other questions and side tangents…

But it wasn’t you. She wasn’t who I wanted to talk to and though I knew it was a conversation that I had to have, I didn’t want to. I wanted to talk to you. I still do. I still need it to be you that I gush and ramble to. I need this to be for you right now.

The “race day” adventure started Friday evening. Ox came home after getting off from work. We packed the car up and said goodbye to his parents so we could try to out drive a storm that had the potential to hail on us.

We stopped at a gas station before getting on the interstate to fill up the car and get snacks. He helped me scrub the windows clean of bug guts since that’s a thing I have to deal with here in Nebraska. We ate pretzels and beef jerky while listening to music as we traveled. We were able to beat the storm because we’re badasses like that.

We made it to the town of Blair, home of the bears, which is where I had been able to get a hotel room. We were still about 30 minutes from the race location, but that was the closest hotel I could find. Nebraska is so spread out and a lot of the towns are small. I was sort of surprised we ended up as close as we did.

Blair is quaint. It’s bigger than Hickman, but it has a lot of mom and pop type places. The deli we went for dinner is a good example. In a way, it reminded me of Ye Old Fashion in Summerville. The food wasn’t anything crazy or out of the ordinary. I had a roast beef sub. It wasn’t anything that I couldn’t have made myself at home, but it was still good and I enjoyed eating carbs at night guilt-free, knowing that I would run them off during the race. I even indulged and had a waffle cone with cookie dough ice cream.

It had been a choice between driving to the race location so we could see where it was at and getting food since we didn’t get to Blair until 8pm. Food won out and I’m glad it did. I enjoyed sharing a nice meal with Ox. It was datey feeling, getting ice cream with him.

This was our second road trip together since he flew down to Orlando to drive with me to Nebraska when I moved. It was nice to feel like we got away together.

I wish I could ask you about sex advice, mom. I know Ox says it isn’t me, but it’s hard to feel like it isn’t. We were finally alone. Away. I’m losing weight, again. I’m doing well at work. I cover my bills. I’m domestic with doing laundry and cooking and cleaning.

I don’t know what else to do to be a better, more attractive or enticing mate.

I have been told it’s not me. I’m doing everything right. But that doesn’t change the feelings of “It is me”. This issue has followed me through all of my relationships. I have a higher sex drive than my partner and I don’t know how to change that or to come to terms with the feelings of loneliness that go with it.

Did you ever experience relationships like this, mom? How did it make you feel if you did? What happened? How did you cope?

I’m told I am sexy. I am beautiful. But I don’t feel those things, mom, and I don’t know how to change that. When I say them, when I say, “I am beautiful” it feels like a lie. That combination of words isn’t one of MY truths. I know my truths shouldn’t be based on another person’s opinion or actions or feelings. It should be based on mine, but in my head when I hear “You’re beautiful” I think, “No. I’m not. I’m just me.”

Just me…

That’s a lot of things, though. I’m “just” amazing and fantastic and compassionate and empathic and logical and emotional and structured and spontaneous and fun and funny and outgoing and reserved. I’m an INFJ and there’s so much that goes into “just me”. I don’t know why having sex less often than what my nervous system wants causes so much strife within myself.

Why does it make me question my self-worth? What does it make me wonder if there’s something I should be doing, or doing differently, or not doing? Why does it make me feel like the problem is within myself?

I don’t know if you would have any insight, but I wish I could talk to you about it. I wish I could hear your voice assuring me that Ox and I will figure it out. He’s so many things that my past relationships haven’t been. Why can’t I let this one thing go?

It made Friday night hard. I had packed a piece of lingerie with me. We were alone. We didn’t have Life breathing down our necks with obligations or responsibilities. Sexy time wasn’t in our cards for that night, though. The lingerie went unworn.

It was hard to not feel unattractive.  While we were outside smoking before going to bed I asked if there was anything I could or should be doing differently.

In the end, I asked if it was like my grief and how it can’t really be explained. Was it similar to how I wish my grief could be something like the memory orbs from Inside Out where I could let someone else hold it and say, “This. This is what I feel.”

Ox said yeah. It was like that. He could try to explain as best he could, but there wasn’t really a way to explain to someone else what it feels like to want to please your partner and not be able to.

I know we’re more than roommates or good friends, but it’s hard to feel or support that fact inside my head. It feels like a big part of the relationship is missing or withering away. We both come home from work. I do chores. He plays video games. We go to sleep. We wake up and repeat.

We ended up sleeping cuddled close together which helped keep the lonely feelings from winning. I still didn’t feel sexy or beautiful, but I didn’t feel alone.

When we woke up we checked out the breakfast bar at the hotel but decided to go to a local diner instead. It was another decent meal of nothing super facey. I had rye toast with a mushroom omelet. I even had some of the hashbrowns. We drove to the race site. Ox helped spray my back down. I wore the top he found for me. I had my new shoes. He was at the start line taking pictures and watching me raise my hand for Nebraska even though I had been giving him shit about still representing Florida.

He was there at the end, mom. He was there when I crossed the finish line covered in mud and he didn’t make me feel bad or weird for doing it. He held my bag and let me have my beer and… goddamnit, he’s awesome and I feel like shit for having such a shallow hang up.

He didn’t have to drive two hours to sit for an hour and fifteen minutes out in the sun surrounded by strangers while I ran a circle. He didn’t have to sit there and worry about me not finishing the race because I hurt myself on an obstacle he couldn’t see or twisted my ankle while running. He didn’t have to go. He didn’t have to give me a partial hug. Hell, a partial hug is more than what Zane would give me when I got home after biking to and from work so he could use my car and all that was was sweat.

Ox didn’t try to stop me from going or try to talk me out of it. He doesn’t make me feel bad for spending as much time at the gym as I do or the nights I’ve spent a majority of our “together” time at the dojo instead of being home. He goes to SCA combat practices with me even though he doesn’t fight. He wakes up at 3:45 on the mornings I work just so we can have a cigarette together before I leave even though it almost always fucks up his sleep. He lets me sleep on the couch when I feel the need to have space. He lets me write. He always says thank you when I do something. Making his lunch. Doing the laundry. The small, trivial, unnoticeable things of everyday life aren’t unnoticeable to him and he acknowledges those actions.

Through our conversations of Friday night, he told me he thinks it might be low testosterone. Having been in relationships where I’ve been told I need to be on medication to “fix” myself, I feel awful about the thought of Ox feeling like he needs to take or do something to “fix” himself.

He’s human, so I can’t say he’s perfect, but the thought that I might be making him feel pressured to do something like taking pills or medication sucks. It didn’t make me feel good when it was done to me, so I don’t want to do it to another person, intentionally or unintentionally.

He said taking supplements is something he wants to try; for me, but for him too. He said he’s noticed other things which could be related to low testosterone. I guess it’s something he’s thought about since before our conversation.

I guess there’s not much else to say in regards to this. I wish I knew your opinion, mom. I wish you could tell me if I’m making mountains out of molehills. I know sex is important, yet at the same time not, yet at the same time is… I wish it wasn’t such a big part of the race but since all of this talking happened the night before, it’s tied into it and so there’s no way I can talk about one without the other. It’s the part that’s unresolved in my head and so it’s the part I need to talk about first.

The conversations I have with Ox always bring us closer. In the end, we agreed that we’re ok. We cuddled close together, his arms wrapped around me, and slept through the night. I woke up rested even though I was in a foreign environment and usually have a hard time sleeping in a bed other than my own. I was with Ox and we were ok so it was ok.

We had a nice breakfast in a cute town. He let me have my day. We drove back to Lincoln and we went to our Mongolian Grill and he let me wear my fuzzy warrior hat inside the whole time along with my medal. He went out in public with me while I was still grimy from the race. He even looked up other events I could still sign up for this summer while we were eating.

He let me be grouchy and sad afterward when my headache from dehydration started setting in and I came down from the high of my race. He let me sleep for hours once we got home.

And today, he’s let me be whatever it is that I am. I’m not as sore as I expected to be. Physically I’m doing pretty well. Emotionally I felt frayed, though. I’ve wanted closeness and contact and I think a lot of that has more to do with the runner’s high than anything. It felt a lot like sub-drop after an intense BDSM scene.

We ended up going to the movies since they have the dream lounge chairs. I was able to sit cross-legged the whole time while we watched the new Jurassic World movie. We were close and touching the whole time. Being out of the house helped. Not being the “responsible one” was nice. I didn’t have to drive. I didn’t have to choose anything. I didn’t have to talk to anyone. All I had to do was be present and watch dinosaurs attack shit. I was able to be low energy and quiet and near him and it was nice.

We were able to stop at GNC before going home so I could have my energy drink in the morning since my stockpile was out. So not only did we get cuddle time with dinosaurs, we were also productive.

You would really like him, mom. He honestly does take really good care of me. We take good care of each other.

I want to run another race before summer ends. I want to meditate more on the sex issue because I do feel like I need to explore that more within myself. I need to figure out why it is such a big deal for me because as much as I don’t want it to be one, it is and I can’t expect others to understand it if I don’t understand it myself. I want to keep training and losing weight. I want to figure out why I have such an issue with the words sexy and beautiful. And I want to figure out what I want.

That doesn’t seem like a lot, but I know on the emotional “figuring myself out” level it’s going to be a lot of work. I guess it’s a good place to start, though.

I don’t feel as frayed anymore. I feel more ok with the thought of going to work. I have a battle plan for figuring out some of the stuff that’s bothering me.

Thanks for listening, mom. Maybe next time I’ll be able to gush about the obstacles and which ones I liked and which ones were annoying and about the two runners I met and winning my free water bottle and all of the things that went into making my third Warrior Dash the warm memory that it is.

I love you, forever and for always.

Musing Moment 114: Inching Closer

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I don’t do well on the days where I go back to sleep after I wake up, and though I know how to fix this, I sort of don’t.

Today is my first day off of four. I have my race on Saturday so I requested Friday off. Thursday, today, is a normal off say and so is Sunday. It’s like a mini-vacation.

Today is also a day where I am truly alone. Papa Ox has a field project he needed to go out for. Mama Ox and Ox are both at work. I don’t have training until 2:30 this afternoon. I have no other obligations unless I’m alive enough to go to the dojo after training for kickboxing, krav, and jitz, in that order.

When I go back to bed after Ox leaves on my days off it’s hard to not feel apathetic. It’s better on the days that I have training earlier in the day. I have a reason to get up. To shower. To eat. I have things I need to do and so there’s a level of motivation I guess that gets me up and moving.

Today I didn’t have that.

I went back to sleep. I woke up again. I had a cup of coffee for the first time in weeks. I had part of my breakfast but not all of it because I wasn’t super hungry.

I pretty much passed out right when I got home yesterday. I’m not nearly as sore, but I’ve also slept for somewhere in the ballpark of 16 hours. Small wonder I’m not really all that hungry. I haven’t done much.

I still really don’t have much motivation for anything. I “could” clean my computer desk, but I really don’t want to. There are clothes that “could” be put away, but again, I’m not really feeling it.

I made myself eat lunch since my trainer would give me shit later today for not eating. Saving myself from future heartache I guess; maybe that’s a mild form of self-preservation. I feel like he’s going to push me pretty hard today since I did so well on Tuesday. We did sled work at the end. My chest hasn’t been that sore in ages. I haven’t had to dig that deep on the emotional side in a while either.

I feel like the times where I have to fight against my grief and the darkness are the times that really matter. When I pushed the sled down the gym the first time I knew I was going to struggle more emotionally than physically. When my trainer turned the sled around and said I only had to do it three more times I wanted to cry.

My Brain: You say it’s “only” three more times. But that’s THREE MORE TIMES. THREE. I’m already fucking burnt. I can’t do three. No. It’s not that I can’t. It’s that I don’t want to do three. What’s the point? Why do three, or two, or even one? What’s the point in doing any of this when mom’s dead? You know, it’s so easy for you to say it’s “only” three. It’s “only” something. It’s so fucking easy for the rest of the world to just keep going like everything is easy and “only” three when just waking up is sometimes the hardest thing to do and then not only do I have to do that, but then I have to get out of bed. And then I have to shower. And then I have to do all of this other bullshit and interact with all these other people and pretend that living isn’t hard and doesn’t feel heavy and hollow and pointless. It’s already “only” fucking hard, ok? I don’t need to do your three. I don’t NEED to do anything because I’ve already done more than you can even imagine just by standing here. I don’t have to prove to you I’m strong. I’m already strong. Being here, standing here, makes me strong. So you know what? Fuck you, Life. No. Seriously. Fuck you and you know what? I’ll do three more just to prove to you that you can’t win. I won’t let you win. I WILL NEVER LET YOU WIN.

The last three pushes were some of the hardest pushes I’ve ever done, more because I was trying to breathe and control the urge to break down into rage-filled tears, though my body was totally ok with not having to push the sled anymore once I was done.

There’s a part of me who likes being pushed to that point. My mental and emotional breaking point I guess. It makes me confront my grief and the harder emotions that lurk in the dark, dusty corners of my mind that get ignored during everyday life.

I had a thought Tuesday as I sat outside recovering from my training.

I wonder if mom hurts, too.

I talk about my wound and what it feels like for her to be dead. I wonder if she hurts from us being apart, too. I wonder if being dead is hard for her because she can’t be here. I wonder if she has her own wound in her chest where she aches for one more phone call. One more hug. One more, “It’s ok”.

I wonder if I’ve been selfish and small and inconsiderate of the other side of the situation. Maybe it sucks just as bad for her as it does for me. Maybe worse since she lost so much more. She lost Jon and Jason and Jace and Lio and her coworkers and her brothers.

I only lost mom. Mom lost everything.

There’s a sick part of my brain that feels a little bit better thinking that mom and I are struggling together. I’m not alone in my hurt. I’m not alone. It sucks for both of us and we’re doing the best we can with what the Universe will let us have.

It sucks that I have to go for now so I can actually shower and get to the gym on time for training where I’ll have to push again when I don’t want to. I don’t know why I do this. I don’t know what I want. Or maybe it’s that I keep forgetting or losing sight of what I want and so it’s easier to say I don’t know what I want rather than to look for it or remember.

I miss you, mom. I miss you so much. I’m going to go to training and I’m going to run my race and I know I’m doing these things for me, but I’m also doing them for you. That’s why I’m able to do three more. Because I tell myself it’s for you. That’s why I get out of bed sometimes. That’s why I eat. Because I told you I would. Sometimes the only reason I’m able to do things is because I say they’re for you and I don’t want to let you down.

Today isn’t a hard day, but I guess with finding the dojo and everything else that I’ve been doing recently, I’m inching closer to… I don’t know what. Closer to something, though. The emotions are there, near the surface. They’re not the raging, chaotic, swirling beast they were in the beginning. They’re calmer now, more settled. They don’t overwhelm me in the same way anymore even though they’re no less powerful.

I don’t understand that foreign aspect of myself any more than I did before I started writing this, mom, but maybe I’m on the right path to understanding it.

I love you. Thanks for being there for me. We’ll get through it together.